Insta Holiday (Justice)

“Dean, don’t pick at your teeth. You’d think you were raised in a barn. Logan, you’ve already had two biscuits. One more and you’re going to explode like a tin can full of rotten fish. Rory, for the love of God, would you stop slouching? You look like you’re a fisherman.”

“Fishermen have bad posture?” I can’t help myself. The question sort of asks itself.

Rory brings her napkin to her face to hide a smile.

“Yes. From bending over,” Sheila replies stiffly.

“Rory’s been carrying a lot of weight on her shoulders for a while. If her posture’s shitty, it’s because she’s working three jobs and—" Rory kicks me in the legs.

Sheila gets my drift, though. She tilts her head, fork dangling between her fingers, as if she is thinking about stabbing me with it. “And what do you intend to do about that? You’ve brought my family here to your palace for a visit, but tonight they will have to go home to our shack where there is no pool or PlayStation. Dean will whine about his next visit, and Logan will sulk for days while Rory grows older by the minute. I know exactly how Rory feels because I was her. I had a taste of this life, but because I didn’t have the right connections, I was only good enough for a f…king,” she ends coyly.

My eyes fly to my dad. He’d dated Sheila? He shakes his head.

“I’m not going to lie, Sheila, Tom didn’t do right by you back then,” he says.

“Are you saying your son is going to be different?” Sheila challenges.

“Yeah,” I interject. I don’t need my dad speaking for me. “Damn straight. I’m marrying Rory. Logan can swim here every day, and Dean can play video games whenever he doesn’t have homework.”

“If you say so.” Sheila twirls the fork in her fingers and then resumes picking at her plate.

“I’d marry her today,” I say, feeling an urgency to prove myself. “Call a priest. Or get Uncle Phillip here. He’s the mayor.”

“No.”

Rory almost shouts it.

My head spins toward her. “What?”

She stands up abruptly, the chair bouncing backward and nearly falling over. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to marry you. I can take care of this family. Logan, Dean, let’s go.” When they don’t immediately get to their feet, she screams, “Now!”

“What’s going on, Rory?”

But she doesn’t answer me. She’s running toward the door like the devil is chasing her. Logan stuffs a biscuit in his pocket and grabs Dean’s hand and follows his sister out the door.

Sheila’s wearing a shocked expression. She didn’t expect this outcome.

I guess I should’ve. Rory’s feeling backed into a corner, like my proposal was forced. It should’ve been done with flowers and candles and maybe a prop jet writing letters in the sky.

“Excuse me,” I tell my mom, who waves me off.

I hurry after Rory. She’s got the boys in her Jeep and is about to take off, so I do what any other desperate man in my situation would do. I plant myself in front of the headlights, stretch my arms out, and yell, “You’re only leaving over my dead body.”

CHAPTER 18

RORY

I’m on the verge of tears. I have been since my mother showed up here. It’s the story of my life when dealing with her. The second I start to settle in or think I’m getting my footing, she’s there blowing it all to hell for me. I should be used to it by now. But for a little while, I thought just maybe I could finally have something that made me happy.

I felt normal when I was with Tyson’s mom. She didn’t look at me like I was the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. She seemed to even like me. That was until Sheila showed up and put everyone on edge.

“Rory, I’m not moving. You’ll have to mow me down to get out of here.” I can see the determination in his eyes. He wasn’t lying when he said over his dead body. And damn is it too good of a body to go to waste.

“Don’t do it. This isn’t Grand Theft Auto. If you run him over, he won’t come back,” Logan says from the back seat.

“Who’s been letting you play that game?”

“He just likes to drive the cars and stuff. He doesn’t do the missions or anything or engage in any of the other stuff. I swear.” Dean tries to come in quick for the save.

“Babe, get out of the car. We need to talk.” Tyson rests his hand on the hood of my Jeep. I see his parents standing in the doorway watching us. Where is my mother? She’s probably inside stealing the silver or something. She’s an opportunist and would have no problem taking advantage of the Carters being distracted. It’s a shame that my mind immediately wanders to think the worst of her.